


Flu Season

by kitausu



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Caretaking, Daddy Kink, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Showers, Sick Character, Sickfic, Whining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-18 22:00:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12397098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitausu/pseuds/kitausu
Summary: Shiro taking care of Lance when he's sick.Contains: flu ridden Lance, Daddy Shiro, and the world’s fastest blowjob





	Flu Season

Lance was probably going to die.

Well…maybe not…but if he didn’t get out of this bed in 10 seconds he would from boredom.

“No.”

Lance pouted, sending Shiro a little death glare as he worked on paperwork next to him in bed.

“You don’t even know what I was going to do.”

Shiro finally looked up, an incredibly flat and unimpressed look on his face.

“You were going to try and get up.”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Lance looked away quickly before immediately regretting it as his head spun and his vision swam at the rapid movement.

He guessed that answered the question of whether or not he still had a fever. Even though, it really wasn’t a question at all. His entire body ached, his stomach rolled and gurgled from the conflicting urge to eat and also never even look at another piece of food again.

Lance was on what he hoped were the last few days of the flu, and to be honest, as much as he was pouting and needling Shiro to let him up, he wasn’t actually sure he _could_ stand up even if Shiro did let him.

“Shiiiirooo.”

“I said no.”

Lance dramatically flopped back against the pillows, clamping his hands across his mouth as his stomach knotted threateningly for a minute, before subsiding back to normal. He also maybe broke his back with the force…probably not…but his body did hurt.

Slipping his hands around Shiro’s forearm, he sniffled quietly and snuggled up as close to his boyfriend as humanly possible. Lance could make out the little damp spots from Shiro’s palms sweating on his papers, the bed way too warm for someone perfectly healthy and in sweats.

Lance briefly thought about telling Shiro he could leave, but selfishly decided against this. He was sick. He could be selfish, if he wanted.

For a minute, he thought he would go to sleep, Shiro’s steady breathing an easy metronome to tune into. Except, every time his body started to settle, a shiver would wrack his spine and stop him from getting comfortable or easing off into sleep.

“I hate this.”

He knew he was being dramatic and whiny, and definitely a little pouty, and not in the cute way that usually got Shiro to do whatever he wanted. Despite that, Shiro stopped what he was doing and pushed Lance’s oily bangs back with the palm of his prosthetic.

“I know, baby.”

It was miserable, sitting in his own sweat from the fever breaking and coming back over and over the past couple days. He hated Shiro seeing him like this, even if Shiro was an absolute saint who took of work to be with him and never said a word about it.

“I feel disgusting.”

Shiro smiled softly at him, running his hand along the curve of Lance’s cheek, the cool metal soothing against his overheated skin.

“I have an idea.”

 

Time moved weirdly after Shiro left the bed. He remembered whining after him, and Shiro coming back to kiss his forehead and shush him a little before leaving again.

Lance thought maybe Shiro had walked back through the room for towels or something but then disappeared again. He was only vaguely aware of the sound of water starting before Shiro was back, his arms coming up under Lance’s knees and behind his back to lift him up against Shiro’s naked chest.

“Shiro?”

“I’ve got you, baby, don’t worry.”

The fact that the shower was running, instead of the tub, surprised Lance a little as he let Shiro manhandle him out of his clothes and into the stall. The tile felt like ice against his back as he let Shiro prop him up against the wall but he was weirdly glad not to be sitting in his own filth.

The water was probably lukewarm, but to Lance it felt cool and soothing against his fever hot skin. He blinked rapidly as little droplets kept falling in his eyes, eventually giving up and tilting his head back against the tile with his eyes closed.

Lance could hear Shiro moving around, occasionally brushing up against Lance before returning with a washcloth in hand that he draped across the soap dish at Lance’s side.

“Tilt your head down, baby boy.”

The world spun a little as Lance let his head fall forward too fast, instinctively moving to follow Shiro’s commands. But it felt good, to tuck his chin into his chest and let the water run along his cheeks and drip down to his feet.

Shiro stepped away briefly, but came back smelling of Lance’s floral shampoo in his hands.

Lance was pretty convinced Shiro’s hands were magic, fingers carefully working against his scalp, lathering up the soap and clearing Lance’s stuffy nose a little with the scent. He wondered, briefly, who was whimpering, but realized pretty quickly it had to be him.

“You’re doing amazing, Lance. Such a good boy for me.”

To his surprise, he actually felt the beginnings of interest stirring in his gut at the familiar praise, words slipping out, almost without thinking, in response.

“Yes, Daddy.”

Shiro hummed his approval, scratching his nails lightly against Lance’s tender scalp in response instead.

 

When he was done, Shiro gently guided him under the spray, one hand keeping Lance’s head down as he worked the soap out and finished washing Lance’s hair. Shiro ran the wash rag gently across Lance’s skin, mindful of how every touch ached a little as his limbs felt twice as heavy as normal under the influence of the flu.

By the time Shiro helped rinse him off again and moved him back out of the spray, Lance was shivering, the lukewarm water suddenly too cold on his skin as the air-conditioning filtered in from the open door to their bedroom.

“Daddy, please…”

“Okay, okay, don’t worry.”

Shiro turned the water off and carefully helped Lance from the stall. Lance groaned as the dryer warmed tall was wrapped tightly around him, another used to carefully dry his hair and cutting the chill.

Lance felt kitten weak, the little strength he had earlier now zapped from standing in the shower for so long. Shiro had to carry him back to bed, bridal style again, depositing him in the little reading chair in the corner instead of back on their mattress.

Lance felt listless as he watched Shiro, still naked, strip the bed and replace it with new sheets and blankets. He was half-hard from the shower, and his mind was still stuck on Shiro’s praise and Shiro’s touch even if the rest of his body wasn’t fully on board.  

When Shiro turned around, he smiled when he saw where the towel had parted and Lance’s cock was peeking out.

“Want me to take care of that?”

Startled, Lance looked blearily up at him, as if he couldn’t quiet process the question.

“You’ll get sick.”

Lance frowned a little when Shiro only rolled his eyes and knelt in between his splayed legs. Shiro easily parted the towel further, fully exposing Lance and kissing the crown of his cock, his tongue lapping at the slit.

“Shiro, wait—ah!”

The room actually spun when Shiro sunk effortlessly down, taking him all the way and letting his throat work around the head. Despite Lance’s weakened state, or maybe because of it, Shiro was merciless, pulling every trick he knew to bring Lance to the edge as fast as possible.

“Daddy!”

Lance’s hands fisted into Shiro’s hair, his hips humping little abortive thrusts into Shiro’s willing mouth as he spilled down his throat too soon, too fast.

 

When Lance came to, he was dressed again, this time in one of Shiro’s shirts and a pair of cleaned briefs. Shiro had very obviously wrapped him up like a burrito, his arms restricted to his sides so he could barely move beyond a wiggle.

“Shiro?”

Shiro’s head suddenly popped into Lance’s field of vision, a sheepish look on his face as he ran his fingers through Lance’s still damp hair.

“How are you feeling?”

Lance could feel the sweat building up at the small of his back, dampening his clothes, but other than that, he felt surprisingly clear headed.

“What happened?”

It was almost comical to watch the deep cherry red flood Shiro’s cheeks as his gaze darted everywhere around Lance’s face but at his eyes.

“You…uh…passed out.”

Lance struggled to free himself from the blanket bundle, huffing a little as Shiro helped him to de-mummify and feel the fresh air on his skin.

“I actually feel better, though!”

Even though Shiro looked doubtful, Lance beamed, pulling him back down onto the bed with him. They ended up watching Friends reruns while Lance reassured Shiro during commercial breaks that he had not _nearly killed him by sucking his dick._

Although, roughly a week later, when Shiro was down with the flu, Lance did offer to sick his duck and put him out of his misery.

Shiro threw a pillow at his head.


End file.
